


The Goose Girl

by thegirl (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brothers Grimm AU, F/M, The Goose Girl AU, This was honestly so much fun to write, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9956084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thegirl
Summary: An ASOIAF retelling of the classic Brothers Grimm fairytale 'The Goose Girl' starring Myrcella Baratheon as the unfortunate princess. Requested by DeerShifter who found all the Tudor easter eggs in my ficand yet, thou wouldst not love me.Once upon a time, there was a lonely old queen, who had lost everyone she had ever loved. She lost her mother to childbirth, her father to her brother, her twin to madness, her husband to wine, her eldest son to poison, and her youngest son to sadness, and now all that remained to her was her beautiful young daughter, the Princess Myrcella - and for all that she had lost, the queen now had to send her only daughter away as well, to marry a prince from a far off land of sand and stone...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeerShifter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerShifter/gifts).



> Original fairytale can be found here: http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/goosegirl/index.html

Once upon a time, there was a lonely old queen, who had lost everyone she had ever loved. She lost her mother to childbirth, her father to her brother, her twin to madness, her husband to wine, her eldest son to poison, and her youngest son to sadness, and now all that remained to her was her beautiful young daughter, the Princess Myrcella - and for all that she had lost, the queen now had to send her only daughter away as well, to marry a prince from a far off land of sand and stone.

The queen gave her departing daughter much finery to take to her new home: bejewelled goblets, sparkling tiaras, cloths of gold and myrish lace, silver hair pins and more golden dragons than could be spent in ten years - everything that it was possible to give her, the old queen bequeathed, for she loved her daughter more than anything else in the world. She also gave her her own lady in waiting, a young woman named Taena who came from the far off land of Myr, whose duty it was to ride with the princess and present her to her husband-to-be.

The queen gave them both horses for the journey - Taena of Myr's beast was a well bred mare from the royal stables, but Princess Myrcella's mount came from Highgarden, a place where the steeds were raised from special stock - rumours said they were descended from unicorns, but no one knew for sure. Nevertheless, the princess' stallion spoke and thought and saw, and he too loved the princess. The magic horse's name was Oakheart, and the queen was content that he would protect her daughter from any harm.

When the hour for departure drew near, the old queen went to her chamber and took a sharp dagger to cut her fingers till they bled; then she held a white silken handkerchief under them, and let three drops of her blood fall into it. The queen then gave it to her daughter, and said "sweetling, take better care of this favour than you do any of the other treasures. It is a part of me, so I may travel with you."

So they took a sad farewell of each other, and the Princess stuck the handkerchief in front of her dress, mounted her horse, and set forth on the journey to her bridegroom's kingdom. The princess was headed for Dorne, a vast kingdom to the south, and a dry, harsh land that the princess was quite unprepared for. After the princess and her handmaid had ridden for about a day Myrcella began to feel very thirsty, and said to her lady-in-waiting: "Pray, Lady Taena, dismount from your horse and fetch me some water in my golden goblet from yonder stream; I would like a drink."

Lady Taena did not move from her horse, and tossed her gorgeous dark hair like a whip. "If you're thirsty," she haughtily told Princess Myrcella, "dismount yourself, and lie down by the water and drink." She laughed at the princess as she struggled to dismount, for the princess was still a child in all the ways that mattered, and Taena of Myr considered herself to be better than the young girl, princess or no. "I don't mean to be your servant anymore."

Defeated, the princess got down on her hands and knees by the stream and drank with her cupped hands, for Taena would not give her the goblet to drink from instead. "What am I to do?" The princess whispered to herself, the heat making her head spin. The three drops of blood tucked in her bodice whispered: _if your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two._

Myrcella forced herself to rise from the stream as her belly began to ache, and she managed to mount her horse as her maid watched her struggle with her nose in the air. The princess sighed, and reasoned with herself that they had many days travel still ahead of them, and the maid was probably just as tired and thirsty as herself. She had a gentle heart, and didn't confront Taena on her rude behaviour - what could she do? She was just a girl, and no title would help her out in the deserts of Dorne.

They began to ride again for several miles without incident, and Myrcella had managed to forget about the maid's previous rudeness. Within a few hours, however, the princess again became thirsty, and again asked her maid: "Pray, Lady Taena, dismount from your horse and fetch me some water in my golden goblet from yonder stream; I would like a drink."

Lady Taena laughed cruelly, her dark eyes bright with malice and replied even more haughtily than before: "If you want a drink, you can dismount and fetch it; I don't mean to be your servant."

Myrcella felt tears rising in her eyes, but her throat scratched and burned as the hot sun beat down upon her, and she again dropped the matter to go to the stream and bent over the flowing water, and again she cried "oh heaven, what am I to do?" And, as before, the three drops of blood whispered with the breeze: _if your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two._

And as she drank thus, trying to forget her troubles in favour of the cool water, and leaned right over the water, the kerchief containing the three drops of blood fell from her full bosom and into the stream, quickly being carried away by the fast moving water, and she in her anxiety never even noticed her loss. The handmaiden noticed, however, and her dark, wicked eyes observed it with delight, for she knew what the princess did not: the queen, having grown wary and cautious after losing the rest of her family, had placed a spell upon the drops of blood, which would protect the princess from anyone with evil intentions. But the handkerchief was lost, and along with it, the queen's protection.

When the princess rose to remount Oakheart, Taena called out to her: "no, you will mount my animal. I shall ride Oakheart instead of you." As gentle as the princess was, she wasn't one to ignore such an overt slight - she opened her mouth to protest and put her maid in her place, but the words stuck in the back of her throat, and she couldn't speak her discontent. Instead, she was forced to watch as Taena mounted her dear horse, and wept salty tears as she made for the other mount.

"Wait!" the maid called after her, and Myrcella turned around hopefully, praying the lady had changed her mind. But instead, Taena's cruel gaze looked the princess up and down, lingering on the finery she wore. "Strip," she snapped harshly, until Myrcella was as naked as the day she was born. Taena pulled on Myrcella's royal garments, and instead of giving her noble dress in exchange, she threw a peasant dress at the princess. "Wear that," she commanded, and Myrcella was powerless to protest.

Just when Myrcella had thought there were no more indignities that could be foisted upon her, Taena took her chin in her hand and turned the princess' head from side to side like she was an animal the lady might buy at market. "You must swear upon the Seven," she said in a low, mean voice "never to speak of this to anyone from now on, or I shall kill you here and now." Shaking with terror, Myrcella swore, reduced to a peasant by the woman who should have protected her against any who meant her harm. The only remaining witness to this treachery was Oakheart, who took the events to heart.

Taena now mounted the magical steed, and Myrcella clambered upon the worse mount, and they continued their journey. It took them a full two moons to reach the capital city, Sunspear, and in those two moons the princess was treated by her maid as little more than dirt, until she almost forgot that she had once been the princess and Taena the maid. When the two arrived in Sunspear, a great committee welcomed the prince's betrothed, whom all assumed to be Taena, the dark beauty wrapped in gossamer and silk.

The prince, who had been Myrcella's intended, lifted Taena down from her horse and escorted her directly to his royal chambers. Nobody looked twice as the bedraggled girl beside her, her beauty hidden from all by the moons of hard labour and abuse. Nobody, that is, except the prince's father - the old prince, Doran, a king in all but name, who ruled the lands of stone and sand with kindness and experience. He was bound to the inside of the palaces as a result of gout, and saw what the others could not from above: it struck him just how sweet and gentle, even good, that the princess' maid looked. He had always been kind to his servants, and noted how beaten down this one seemed: something about this princess seemed wrong to him. No true princess would treat a servant so cruelly, surely? He wheeled himself slowly to the royal chamber, where the young prince Trystane was lavishing attention upon the pretender princess, and questioned her about her handmaiden.

"Oh, her," she said airly, waving her hand dismissively, "I brought her with me to keep me company, but she's bone idle: give her work so she can be of use to the household."

But the old prince had no work for her, and couldn't think of anything; so he said, "I've a young man who looks after the geese, she'd better help him." Taena scoffed, perhaps thinking the duty was too soft, but the young prince was thrown off by her dismissive attitude: his father had raised him to be a good man and treat servants well. Sensing this, Taena said no more: if she was to maintain the ruse until she and prince Trystane were to marry, she had to stay on his good side. And so, Myrcella went to work with the geese.

The youth's name was Daemon, and so Myrcella assisted him herding geese whilst unable to tell a soul about her true name and position. Soon after this development, Taena appealed to her false fiance: "beloved, pray, grant me a favour?"

Inwardly, the prince sighed. He found his wife-to-be rather tiring, but to turn her away would be an insult, especially when the match was made to foster peace between their kingdoms. So he arranged his face into a smile, and replied "of course, my love. What do you desire?"

"Pray, let the slaughterer cut off the head of the horse I rode here upon, because it tried to throw me on the journey here." This was a half truth: whilst Oakheart had tried to buck Taena off his back multiple times, the true reason Taena wanted him dead was because he had witnessed her terrorising the true princess, and was afraid he would speak the truth. The prince didn't know any of this, however, and consented for the horse to be killed.

When the news came to Myrcella's ears about her dear horse's impending doom, she went to the slaughterer and begged him for a favour, for she had only one coin left and she gave it to him in exchange for it. The slaughterer, moved by her pleas, agreed to her request: to hang the horse's head above the gate on the outside of the goose farm so she might see him once again. Who would it hurt? He had no orders for what was to be done with the animal's remains, so he did as she bid him, nailing Oakheart's severed head firmly to the gate post.

Early the next morning, Myrcella and Daemon rose with the dawn, and tears came to the princess' eyes as she saw her dear companion's head above the gate. "No!" she cried, much to her companion's confusion, "my dear Oakheart, 'tis you who hangs there?"

And, astonishingly, the horse's mouth opened and replied to her: _'Tis you; pass under, princess fair: if your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two._ At the reminder of her mother, the princess began to weep bitter tears. Her companion, the goose boy Daemon, stared at the maid, wondering if the heat was getting to even _him_ , who had lived in Dorne all his life.

Myrcella wiped away her tears and herded the geese into a nearby field, Daemon following after her. And when they had reached the common where the geese liked to feed, she sat upon the ground and unbound her hair, which was like beaten gold. Daemon loved to see her hair glitter in the Dornish sun, and desperately wanted to pull a hunk of hair out for himself; just as he was plucking up the courage, the princess began to sing.

She had recognised the look in his eyes, one that before his death her older brother used to wear - the pain whenever he wrenched the hair from her head was terrible, and once he had started tearing at her, it took several men to pull him off. Now, she was not a princess, and had no guards to save her, so she decided she had to save herself. Her song was carried along the breeze, her vibratto voice shivering in the air burning air:

 _"Wind, wind, gently sway,_  
_Blow Daemon's hat away;_  
_Let him chase o'er field and wold_  
_Till my locks of ruddy gold,_  
_Now astray and hanging down,_  
_Be combed and plaited in a crown."_

Then a gust of wind blew Daemon's hat away, and he had to chase it over hill and dale, until his legs ached and he could barely breathe from exhaustion. Myrcella could hardly believe her good fortune, and didn't waste the opportunity, plaiting and braiding her hair as quickly as she could. When he returned from the pursuit she had finished her combing and curling, and his chance of getting any hair was gone.

Daemon was very angry, and wouldn't speak to her, something that Myrcella was secretly pleased about - for all that she mourned her younger brother, she had never wept for her elder brother. He had been cruel, much like Taena, and she could see a little of him in Daemon. So they herded the geese till evening in silence and then went back to the small hut allocated to the geese herders.

The next morning as Myrcella and Daemon once again herded the geese towards their preferred common, Myrcella again called out to Oakheart's head: _oh, Oakheart, 'tis you who hang there?_

The head replied, sounding a little worse for wear after a night out in the wind and rain: _'tis you, pass under, princess fair; if your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two._ Daemon looked at the head, and then at his companion. Was he going mad?

Unaware of Daemon's inner turmoil, Myrcella continued herding the geese to the common and was already sat down with her hair uncoiled when he caught up to her. At the sight of her glossy golden locks, Daemon's eyes grew round with greed and he ran toward her, hand outstretched. Hastily seeing him, Myrcella began to sing again.

 _"Wind, wind, gently sway,_  
_Blow Daemon's hat away;_  
_Let him chase o'er field and wold_  
_Till my locks of ruddy gold,_  
_Now astray and hanging down,_  
_Be combed and plaited in a crown."_

Then, out of a perfectly still day, a rogue puff of wind came and blew Daemon's hat far away, so that he had to run after it; and when he returned she had long finished putting up her golden locks, and he couldn't get any hair for the second day in a row; so they watched the geese till it was dark, not speaking. But that evening when they got home Daemon went to the old prince, and said: "I refuse to herd geese any longer with that girl."

"For what reason?" asked the old prince, who couldn't imagine that gentle looking girl doing any harm to anyone.

"Because she does nothing but annoy me all day long," replied Daemon bitterly; and he proceeded to relate all her iniquities, from the talking horse's head to the song that seemed to conjure wind from nothing. Frowning, the old prince Doran began to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but decided he needed more proof: he told Daemon to go and herd the flock again tomorrow with the girl, promising that it would be the last time, but not to give anything away to the girl. Smirking, Daemon left, assuming he had successfully gotten Myrcella in trouble.

Instead, the old prince called his most trusted advisor Areo Hotah to his side, and bade him to watch the girl and see if things were as Daemon said. The old prince, who had been told stories of the princess' goodness before his son's fiance's arrival, had the feeling that all was not how it seemed with the princess and her maid.

The next morning, as commanded, Areo Hotah went to the goose girl's dwelling and watched from the shadows as she greeted the rotting head of a fine stallion, who spoke back: he had been told what to expect by the old prince, but seeing it was quite another thing. He then crept after Daemon and Myrcella as they drove their flock of geese into the common once more, and watched as after a while the girl sat down and unbound her golden curls. On the wind, even from a distance, he could hear her song:

 _"Wind, wind, gently sway,_  
_Blow Daemon's hat away;_  
_Let him chase o'er field and wold_  
_Till my locks of ruddy gold_  
_Now astray and hanging down,_  
_Be combed and plaited in a crown."_

Then a gust of wind came and blew Daemon's hat away, so that he had to fly over hill and dale after it, and the girl in the meantime quietly combed and plaited her hair: all this Areo Hotah observed, and soon after he returned to the palace without anyone having noticed him, going directly to the old prince and recounting all he had seen. "The horse's head called her a princess," he confided to his master, "could it truly be?"

The old prince narrowed his eyes, and had the girl summoned once she had finished tending to the geese. She came into an audience with him, apparently ashamed of her bedraggled appearance, trying to hide her face behind her glorious crown of hair. He recounted all his advisor and Daemon had told him, and asked her why she behaved in such a way. A single tear slipped down her grubby cheek. "I may not tell you," she wept quietly, "for how can I confide in my woes to anyone when I swore upon the Seven never to tell another soul?"

A plan quickly hatched in the old prince's mind as he caught sight of the fireplace that had been installed hundreds of years previous, but never used - it was too hot in Dorne for fires, and instead they had been adapted by the old prince himself in his younger days as ways to spy on people in the rooms. "Fine," he said in what he hoped was a defeated tone, "at least, if you cannot confess to me, confess whatever burdens you to that hearth. I will leave you to your sorrow." He wheeled himself out of the room slowly, but the second the doors clicked behind him, he went hurriedly over to the other side of the fireplace and put his ear to the wall.

He heard soft footsteps, and then a deep cry before the girl fell to her knees and sobbed, clutching at her heart as if it might burst out of her chest from the pain of it. "Here I sit, deserted by all the world, I who am a queen's daughter, and a false maid has forced me to take off my royal clothes and trappings, and has taken my place with my bridegroom, whilst I have to fulfill the lowly office of goose girl." She sniffled as she wiped away the tears that now ran freely down her cheeks, repeating to herself what her heart had been telling her all along: "If my mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two."

Suspicions confirmed, the old prince went back to the doors and re-entered the room, now with a small army of servants at his back. The princess looked up at him, fear written plainly on her face. To her amazement, the old prince ordered her to be put in his estranged wife's old chambers, bathed and dressed in royal clothes. The princess' head span at the old prince's orders: how could he have known? She was in a daze as she was bathed and dressed at the prince's request, but when she caught sight of herself in a mirror, she barely stopped herself from weeping again: she hadn't thought to ever look like herself again.

When she re-entered the old prince's solar, his son stood with him, and suddenly Myrcella felt very shy as his eyes met hers. For his part, the young prince simply stared, slack jawed, at the vision of loveliness and beauty that stood before him; he barely registered his father's explanation that _this_ was his true bride, instead of the harpy he had been gritting his teeth and bearing for the past few days, cheated out of her clothes and jewels and almost her husband by a jealous maid.

"My lady," he said hoarsely, getting to his knees as he looked into her lovely face, "it is an honour, and to be frank _a relief_ , to make your accquaintance." He took her hand in his and kissed it lightly: colour sprung up in Myrcella's cheeks as the old prince smiled in self satisfaction. This was the bride his son was promised and deserved, but what to do with Taena?

In the end, the old prince declared there was to be a fine banquet that night, where the young prince and his bride-to-be were to be the guests of honour. That evening, the prince sat in the middle of the high table, with Myrcella to his right and Taena to his left, so that she didn't suspect her ruse had been uncovered.

The old prince, though now sickly, had travelled the world in his youth, and knew a few spells of his own: he cast one upon the maid so she would not recognise Myrcella as the princess she had mistreated and instead as a noblewoman she had never seen before. He still had Myrcella tell her story in front of Sunspear's courtiers, and Taena was apparently oblivious to the mounting judgement of the guests, who could all now see that she was the cruel maid who had so mistreated the princess, or the fact that it was her own story that was being told.

Now when they had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the old prince asked the false bride to solve a problem for him. "What," said he, "should be done to this person who has deceived everyone and so abused our guest? What sentence should be passed against them?"

A cruel light came into Taena's eyes, as she thought of how she could make this person suffer, and her limited imagination came up with an exceptionally cruel manner of death: "She deserves to be put stark naked into a barrel lined with sharp nails," Taena announced to the hall "which should be dragged by two sand steeds up and down the street till she is dead." She looks around, looking for approval, but only sees stone faced courtiers. She looks at the old prince in askance, as he shakes his head in disgust. At the same moment, he reversed his enchantment so the handmaiden's mind was suddenly clear of it's fog.

"You are the person," said the prince, as Taena's face slipped into an expression of horror at the implication of her own words, "and you have passed sentence on yourself; and even so it shall be done to you."

"Wait-" She began, but the woman didn't even have time to beg for mercy before she was being dragged from the hall, and towards the stables by a stonefaced Areo Hotah. Myrcella forced herself to listen until the screams stopped. As for the princess Myrcella, she was finally married to her prince, and the two of them were destined to have a long, loving marriage, the likes of which could never be broken by a jealous maid or a curse.

The End


End file.
